


Confessions of a Call Girl

by Rivermoon1970



Series: Human Darkness Chronicles [6]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Call Girl, Each team member knows, Multi, POV First Person, Prostitution, mentions of restraints, not my normal writing, same call girl, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivermoon1970/pseuds/Rivermoon1970
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My name is, well it doesn’t really matter what my name is. What matters in this story, my story, are the people who moved in and out of my life, a life that I lived unashamedly. The most important people, the people that I want to tell you about are those that I met through word of mouth, those that namely worked for the BAU."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions of a Call Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my usual POV and it's not my usual type of writing. I hope you guys like it. Please let me know what you think.

My name is, well it doesn’t really matter what my name is. What matters in this story, my story, are the people who moved in and out of my life, a life that I lived unashamedly. The most important people, the people that I want to tell you about are those that I met through word of mouth, those that namely worked for the BAU. 

What can I tell you about the team? Oh there’s a lot I can tell you about them. I can tell you about their fears and their joys, the things that make them wake-up at night in a sweat. The people in their lives that don’t understand them, but try to. I can tell you their personalities, their strengths and weaknesses. I can tell you so much about them but what it all boils down to is how each one dealt with the pain and terror of their job. How do I know so much about them? Funny you should ask, I’m a call girl. Oh don’t give me that look. Don’t preach to me about how I trade sex for money it’s my choice. Always has been. I never did drugs, had a great relationship with my parents. I have a Ph.D. in Psychology and Sociology. But, I found out two things about myself early on. I love sex, all kinds of sex. Oh sure there are things that I won’t do, I have hard limits and the members of the team often pushed those limits and boundaries. I enjoy it so much that I decided one day to make a living out of my love of sex. My choice, no one forced me into this life I jumped in feet first and have never looked back. The second thing I knew is I love money. I know, I know root of all evil and all that. I'm not stupid with it, I enjoy what it can bring me and how I can help others with it. I'm not cheap and I make more in one week than most people do in a month. I know that one day, though, it will end. I’ll get old, or worse but for now I’m happy.

That’s right, I was telling you about the team. The BAU or Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. How did they come to me? No one has told me exactly how they got my number but I can guess. Word of mouth, a whispered conversation between two co-workers, a note passed in silence. Does it really matter? Not really, what matters is their stories. I’m here to tell them. Don’t worry, each one is short but they are each important. How they approach me, and spend time with me is probably the most honest each one has ever been with themselves. Even those who play at being open and honest often hold the deepest secrets. And, if you look really hard, the ones who are quiet, who keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves are often the most open if you just know what questions to ask. So, where do I start? Do I start at the beginning? The first to come to me? Or the last? Let me think a moment. Ah, yes that’s who I should start with, the most damaged.  
________________________________________________________________________________________  
“Jason, come in.” Jason slowly enters my room and looks around. He’s a creature of habit and tries to profile the hotel I’ve chosen; the clothes I’m wearing or not wearing, as the case may be. He knows the story of my scars but often asks me anyway. A car accident when I was a child. Drunk driver, luckily all I got were the scars. Mom, Dad and my brothers were hurt also but thankfully none of us died. I often think he asks me to re-tell it because it reassures him that sometimes good things come out of bad. My family grew closer after the accident. Me taking the brunt of the damage made all of them re-evaluate our lives as a family and we got through it together. Jason hums and chews on a toothpick and watches me as I watch him. He thinks one day I’m going to crack, that I won’t want to do this anymore and maybe he’s right. But, I also think that he sees himself as a kind of savior, one who is just waiting for me to ask to be saved. I’m not going to though and he knows it because truly, there’s nothing that I need saving from. 

“I don’t know why I’m here.” He whispers as he kisses me soft and gentle. He’s always conflicted and I see it’s getting worse. I see him pulling into himself more and more and I ache to help him but i’m not sure how.

“Because you shut off your emotions Jason. You feel too much all at once and I help you quiet those voices in your head.” I tell him as I slowly undress him. That’s one thing he likes so I indulge him. When he’s naked sometimes he tilts his head and looks at me strangely. 

“Why do you let me have you?” I know what he’s really asking. He wonders why I let him have sex with me. He doesn’t see his own beauty. Sure he’s older. That doesn’t bother me. Neither does the small paunch around the middle.

“It’s your eyes. They hold such pain, they hold the weight of the world. You don’t let go Jason. You don’t let people in, don’t let them help you and it’s going to be your downfall. If I can give you peace, just for these hours? I will.” I pull him in and kiss him once more. Then it’s a tangle of arms and legs. Fumbling on the bed. An erotic wrestling match that ends with him entering me and letting himself for once take a little pleasure. When he comes it’s almost beautiful and the peaceful look that comes over his face I wish that he could have that all the time. 

He collapses next to me holding me tight and I know he wonders what the hell he is doing.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
I can often tell the kind of case the team had been working by how they are with me. Derek Morgan. Talk about complicated. The man is a barely controlled fire. He keeps it together most of the time though. His anger, which always seems to simmer just on the surface he tries to bank. He isn’t always successful, at least in my limited experience with the man. So, when he calls me and wants to meet I tell him where and when. 

He comes in the door, that fire and anger almost shimmers off his dark, beautiful skin. I love to taste him. Love to run my tongue on his skin. He tastes of sandlewood and musk and sometimes I can smell the sawdust and paint that doesn’t ever truly go away. That’s when I know he’s been at one of his properties. But at the moment I know immediately how this night is going to go when he comes in. Not even five minutes after entering my room he’s taking off his clothes, well, more like ripping them off and tackles me to the bed. Growling low in his throat he tells me what he wants and I oblige him. When he takes me in the ass I know. I know what kind of case he’s come from and what demons he’s trying to purge. I know of a childhood that was taken from him when he saw his father killed. I know his innocence was ripped from him by a greedy, terrible older man. 

He grips my hips hard in his large strong hands and I know they’ll leave bruises but I don’t complain. He pushes into me rough and I take it. I don’t mind really, I enjoy rough sex and if I can give Morgan the outlet he so desperately seeks then so be it. He grunts and growls seeking his release and when he finally finds it he cries out an almost primal scream. Collapsing on the bed he pulls me to him and mutters unwarranted apologies.

“Derek, stop. You don’t hurt me. I’m fine.” But of course he doesn’t believe me because how could anyone enjoy rough anal sex? I wish I could assuage his fears but at least for one night he’s spent, the fire from his pain and anger are banked for now, at least until the next case of the molestation of young boys. He’ll be back then purging himself and trying to make me understand something that I already do.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________  
Spencer Reid. What can I say about the genius? He’s utterly charming and adorable and doesn’t even know it. He calls me and the first few times all we do is go out for coffee and a game of chess. He was surprised the first time that we played. I told him that I was an utter nerd in grade school and high school. He doesn’t ever seem to believe me. He tells me that I’m too beautiful to have been a nerd. I laugh and vow to one day show him pictures of my very awkward stages. When he finally gets the courage to ask for sex it’s sweet and shy and I have to take the lead. After, though, he’s not so shy. 

Spencer. I wanted to be angry at his team when they left him to deal with certain things on his own. Things no one should have to do alone. When he called me after Georgia all he did was lay his head in my lap and cry. I held him through the night and tried to talk him out of taking any more of the drugs. It didn’t work though. He had to work through all of his pain and guilt. I know how he carries the weight of his mother’s illness and I know it’s one of his triggers. When he finally stopped he got help and worked through it and I was proud of him. When things would get bad for him he turned to me and I let him get lost in my body. It seemed a healthier outlet than falling back into addiction. I let him, for lack of a better word, make love to me. I can’t describe it as anything other than that. He spends hours caressing and kissing every inch of me. When he finally slides into me with my legs around his waist he would again take his time, draw out the pleasure and often made sure that I was enjoying the experience as well. His kisses are sweet and tender at first then slowly they succumb to passion and fire. I bury my hands in his too soft hair as he pounds into me seeking relief. 

When Jason was killed he came to me and told me, then he broke down in my arms and I just held him. My own tears fell as I thought of the broken man who refused help from his friends. People believe that sex workers can’t connect to their clients. I’m here to tell you they are wrong. I care for each and every one on the team. It’s a weird kind of give and take with them and I enjoy giving to them what they need. Spencer makes love slow and gentle as his heart breaks. When he comes he lets out what he’s held in. I know he didn’t let the team in to help him, that this was too personal, too painful and I know the itch was there. I hold him close and when he’s finally spent I ask him to read to me and he lights up a little and Jason is momentarily forgotten for the night.

When we lie together, a mess of limbs he reads to me. It doesn’t matter what I like hearing his voice. There’s a quiet sing-song quality to it when he reads and I can’t help myself, I fall asleep in his arms with his voice soft in my ear.  
________________________________________________________________________________________  
David Rossi just can’t help himself. Every single time he comes to meet me he brings me dinner. Tells me I don’t eat enough pasta. That I’m wasting away. I’m 5’10” and 160 pounds. I work out and keep in shape but for some reason the Italian thinks I should eat more. I smile and indulge him. We enjoy the light meal of wine, pasta and vegetables. Then we dance slowly around the room to the music of Sinatra, Martin, Davis or any of the other Rat pack that is Dave’s favorites. At one point he dips me and smacks my lips with his. We laugh and when he pulls me back-up I kiss him again.

Dave, I found out early on, is easily the kinkiest of the group. He likes me to ride him and call him Daddy. At first it was strange, but I had stranger clients before. His touches are almost reverent and often likes to tell me I remind him of the paintings from the Italian masters. I know he’s just flattering me and it’s charming.

I know when the cases are bad for him because he doesn’t say a word. He wants to restrain me and takes me fast and hard then pulls me on top of him when he’s sated. He says he likes the weight, that it reassures him that there are still good things in the world. 

To me Dave is the most dangerous out of the group. His quiet intelligence simmers just behind his eyes. He knows things, knows people that, if he ever turned, no one would be able to catch him. You could make an argument for Spencer and while that may be true, I believe Dave could kill with a scary cold efficiency if ever pushed to it.

“Ah cara, why do you like this life? I could take you home and care for you for the rest of my life.” He asks me every single time.

“You seem to think that I somehow don’t enjoy this.”

“It doesn’t hurt you? Or make you lonely?”

“No. If I wanted to I could set-up an office and become a counselor but I’m having fun Dave. And I don’t really want to become Rossi wife number four.”

“Something wrong with being number four?”

“Only that you had three before and couldn’t keep them.”

He laughs a deep throaty laugh and concedes that I’m right. It’s the same discussion every time. But Dave isn’t the one I would choose. No, if they ever asked there is one I would choose but I’d never tell them, not unless that person asked me to be in their life permanently. 

We lie there in bed talking about what kind of life we might have with each other. Trading friendly banter till he falls asleep. I smile down and brush his hair out of his eyes and shake my head before I too succumb to sleep.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
I admit in my regular life I am sapiosexual. I enjoy an intelligent mind and I think that leaked into my work. Most of my clients are smart. I don’t think I could do this if they were stupid and the interview process helps me weed out those that are less than intelligent. I have no gender preference when taking clients and it was no surprise when Emily called me one day and asked if she could meet me. We meet at a small Russian café and sip at strong coffee and eat traditional Zefir confections. Emily almost chokes on her coffee with the noises I make as I bite into the soft delicate confection. The berry flavor bursts on my tongue while the marshmallow like texture gives me a nice soft chew.

“I swear to god it’s like you’re making love to that thing.” She chuckles as she smiles wide and her eyes light-up.

“Mmm, maybe I am. Maybe I’m thinking of you.” Her eyes dilate and she swallows hard as she watches me take another bite.

“Um, yeah that is definitely hot.” 

I smile at her as I take a sip at my coffee. I torture her for a few more minutes as I finish off the pillowy soft sugary sweetness.

“Well, I do have room in my book for you. I had to let a client go recently. They were…” I frown a moment as I sip at my coffee again. “Well, they were getting weird.”

“Something you should be worried about?” I’m immediately touched by the concern in her voice.

“No. I’ve dropped clients before. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

We talk some more. I outline with her my likes and dislikes and what my schedule is like. I can see that she struggles to put her concerns aside as we talk. 

I don’t hear from her for several days then she finally calls. When she shows up she’s uncharacteristically nervous. I ask if she’s ever been with a woman before and she tells me once when in college and she was drunk. I ask if she really want’s this and she takes a moment to decide. I know her answer when she takes off her clothes.

I get a lot of satisfaction in the fact that I can reduce the cool, efficient Emily Prentiss down to a mewling, needy mess. When she breaks apart and melts into the mattress I know she’ll be back. It’s often some of the oddest cases that trigger her. The child sociopath that killed his own brother. The trucker that was trying to find the perfect ‘Mother’ for his little girl. The Russian mob case that her Mother talked the BAU into taking. The political watchdog that was killing prostitutes. It’s never predictable like it is with Spencer, Morgan or Dave. That’s one thing I like about Emily, she’s unpredictable.

When she comes to me and tells me she is leaving for England she’s crying. A part of her doesn’t want to leave. The friendships she made in the BAU were strong and she was loathe to leave the family she made with them. But she also felt unsettled, like Doyle had taken that family from her and she didn’t know where she fit anymore. The only thing I could do for her was show her how much I cared. When she was a shaking, sweaty bundle of need under me, only then did she let herself break and grieve. It was with a bit of a heavy heart when I had to say goodbye to her. I just hoped that she made the right decision.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
The most surprising of the group was JJ. But it wasn’t just her. She brought her husband Will. They were having problems in their marriage but neither one wanted to go to a psychologist or counselor. No, they came to me. Most often we’d just sit and talk. Sometimes sex was involved and most often it was me helping them to reconnect. 

“Jennifer, how often do you give Will a blow job?” I ask her one day as we sit back against the bed, naked and just softly touching. The question surprises her as she almost chokes on the tea she was drinking.

“Ummm, what?” She asks as she looks at me with those large blue eyes.

“You know blow job, give head, mouth hug. Whatever you want to call it, do you give them often?” I wait patiently for the woman to process the question. I also look at Will’s face and the blush creeping up his face is quite cute.

“I, I, I don’t often no. Why?”

“Are you afraid to talk about sex Jennifer?”

“No, not afraid, really. It’s just that it’s so personal.”

“Yes it is but do you and Will actually talk about sex and what it is you like and dislike?”

She looks to Will and I can tell by their eyebrow gymnastics that this is most definitely not a topic they discuss.

“Well If you two don’t talk about sex with each other it’s no wonder you’re having issues. Now Jennifer I want you to tell Will why you like or dislike giving head.”

I can say without a doubt that Jennifer La Montagne blushes rather prettily.

“I do like to, you know, give you mouth hugs,” she says hastily. “But I just never know If you like what I’m doing because you don’t really tell me.”

Will opens his mouth to protest but takes a moment to think about it. “Y’ do fine cher. I’m just not very vocal, mais if y’ need me t’ be I can work on that.”

I smile at the two of them and coach them through some of their issues hoping that JJ will see what a terrific guy Will really is. I know something significant happened to her when she was supposedly at the ‘State Department’. We get closer to her cracking each time they call for me. I know Will is frustrated but he’s the most patient man I’ve ever known. He loves his wife desperately but knows if he pushes she’ll retreat and he’ll never find out her secrets.  
________________________________________________________________________________  
I’m sitting on the bed waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Out of all of the members of the team the one person that could undo me, the one that can reduce me to nothing is the man coming towards me. Dark eyes that can pierce right into my soul, hands so caring and gentle they almost make me cry. The kisses almost loving in their touch. Aaron Hotchner. Strong yet sensitive. Gorgeous and caring. A part of me wonders if I’ve fallen in love with him. Maybe I have it’s not something I’d ever actually tell him. But I find that I’m always free when he calls, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. I make the time. He smiles and it lights up the too serious face. It’s almost boyish and endearing and I feel honored that I get to see this side of him. He crawls on the bed and before anything happens he hands me something. I try to protest and tell him he should stop with the gifts. But he just can’t help himself. I take the offered box and look inside. The earrings are adorable. Little silver kittens playing with a ball of string. He remembered me telling him the antics of Sir Jones, my black cat.

“Aaron, you didn’t have to.” I smile as I put them on.

“I wanted to.” He flashes me that smile and I know my expression softens as I reach out for him. The kiss is tender but slowly turns to a slow burn. His tongue is warm and soft and I love how he explores my mouth. He gently lays me out and takes his time. 

“Aaron,” I cry out as he dips his tongue in my sex. He loves to taste me, to bring me to orgasm with just his tongue. I’m shaking by the time he finally takes me and it’s just so exquisite watching him moving above me. The slide of his cock in me has the power to reduce me to begging. I fall apart in his arms, every time and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.  
He came to me several weeks after the attack by Foyet. He was nervous and there was a touch of fear in his eyes. I smile at him and when he is lying on the bed he can't quite look me in the eye. I straddle his waist and slowly run my fingers over his chest and stomach. Then I take his hand and make him feel my own scars. He looks up as he runs his hands over the ones on my left side and leg.

“These don’t define you Aaron Hotchner. I don’t let mine rule me. I know what’s going through your mind. You think these hold you back, that you somehow let this happen to you but you didn’t. You fought back, don’t let them define who you are.”

“You,” he starts to say more but is overcome with emotion as he sits-up and wraps an arm around my waist and the other is against my back with his hand buried in my hair. He kisses me fiercely. It’s the first time that he has an edge of anger and danger about him and I encourage it. I meet him hard thrust for thrust. I bank those fires till he’s bursting with a dark passion and when he finally stills his face screwed-up in ecstasy, he cries out as he holds me hard against him. When he’s spent he shatters, lets go of the pain of his attack, at least for the moment.

“Aaron, there you are.” I look down and see the real face of Aaron Hotchner. Not the stoic mask, not the Unit Chief or the depressed, angry man. No, I see the vulnerable, scared, confused man. The man he tries so hard to keep from everyone and I somehow think I’ve been given a gift.

“Why do you do this?” He asks as his hands gently wander my body.

“Why do you keep coming here?” He chuckles at the irony of it all.

“I don’t think anyone has ever reduced me to nothing like you do,” he says so softly that I almost didn’t hear him.

“No, Aaron. I think you find your true self. I think you let go when you’re here and it scares you.”

“Maybe.” He pulls me down to him and wraps himself tightly around me. “Maybe you are the realest person I’ve ever been with.”

“I never pretend with you Aaron. You can be whatever you need to be here, now.” He lets out a breath before he kisses me again. Back to the soft and tender. I start to slowly fall asleep in his arms and I can’t be sure but I think I hear a whispered confession. “I love you.” Surely he didn’t say that, and surely I didn’t hear it but my heart flips a little yet its something I will never ask him about.  
________________________________________________________________________________  
There they are, little snapshots of the team laid bare. The team that I care for more than a call girl probably should. I stand here on a cold clear day watching them. The air is crisp and the sky is bright but the mood is sour and sad. They stand at the end of my grave, each lost in their own thoughts and I wish I could reach out and touch them. 

Aaron is standing there his face a stoic mask as he holds the hand of his son on one side and the hand of a little girl on the other. I smile as I watch. The girl has his dark hair and dark eyes. She also has his serious manner. I hope that my little girl will be happy with her father. I had meant to tell him but the time was never right and now she’s his. She looks up at him with tears in her eyes and my heart aches because all I want to do is wrap her up and keep her safe. Aaron smiles and lays a gentle hand on her cheek and wipes away her tears.

“I promise you everything will be okay.” 

“How do you know?” She asks in her quiet childlike way.

“Jack and I will tell you the story when we get home. I promise.” She presses her face into Aaron’s side and his hand comes gently down on her back. I know in that moment that she’ll be loved and cared for.

I was surprised to see Emily had flown all the way from England and even she wasn’t unaffected by my death. It also brought them to stark reality that they all knew me. It was almost comical when each person arrived and they all stared at each other shocked. I laughed even though I knew they couldn’t hear me.

“So,” Emily started and waved a hand between them. “You all knew her?”

“Yes.” 

“This is not what I expected.”

“I don’t think this is what any of us expected.” Spencer chuffs out a laugh as he looks at his co-workers, his team but doesn’t smile. I see him scratching at his elbow and was pleased when Aaron took his hand and shook his head. That was all it took for the younger man to fall into his arms and cry.

“What happened?” Emily asked Dave.

“She had a stalker. An angry client that she had let go. She didn’t take his threats seriously.” Dave sighs and I know he wants to tell me how stupid I was, that I shouldn’t have taken any chances. There was nothing I could do to help calm their grief. On some level I knew they cared about me but I’m shocked by their level of grief. Maybe I gave to them more than I thought. Who knows? Well, maybe Aaron does.

“Dammit I told her to call someone, to watch out but she was stubborn.”

“Like someone else we know?” Dave just couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help slipping in that little barb that had Emily glaring at him.

“We aren’t talking about that okay?” Emily turned and laid a hand on my casket and said her quiet goodbyes. The rest of the team does the same thing, and all I can do is watch. Aaron however, lingers. He tells Spencer he’ll meet him at the car and tells the children to go with him and I wonder. Did they finally pull their heads outta their asses and confess what is was they felt for each other? I smile to myself when Spencer pecks him on the cheek and says he’ll wait. 

When everyone is gone he takes a box out of his coat. It’s a small red velvet box. He opens it and pulls out a ring. It was a cat curled up with the long tail around a small diamond. I smile softly as he threads the ring through the roses laying on top of my casket.

“Hannah, I wished I had been stronger. I should have told you how I felt and now you’re gone. I loved you Hannah and I wanted to give you a better life. I promise I’ll take care of Amanda and give her a good home. I hope you don’t mind if Spencer shares it with me. After we found out about your death well things just happened between us.” He confesses as he closes his eyes and I see the tears that fall. I move towards him and wrap my hand around his. He looks up and I somehow think that he can feel me.

“Goodbye Aaron. I loved you too.” I whisper in his ear.

"It's time Hannah." I feel the comforting presence of Jason next to me and know it’s time to go.


End file.
